The Simple Truth
by Maeve Skylar
Summary: Ginny Weasley leads a normal life, until she finds out Lord Voldemort is her father. Ginny mentally retraces the steps leading up to metting the Dark Lord face-to-face: is he lying, or is everything Ginny knew a lie? R&R, please? CH. 4 NOW UP!
1. Something Kinda Funny

**Something Kinda Funny**

It had all lead up to this, though Ginny Weasley. It was early morning. The sun had not yet begun to climb the sky, and so the stars were still twinkling, pinning back the cloudless navy sky. The new moon cast no silvery glow upon the foggy, damp field. Bodies lay scattered among the tall grass. Only two remained standing. One had a mane of fiery hair, which fluttered gently in the slight breeze. She gripped her wand, staring the other occupant down defiantly with brown eyes that sparkled with fury and fear. The other, who's snake-like eyes glowed red and maliciously in the dark of night, stared her down with a state of almost amusement. "Child," hissed an icy voice. He reached out, bony fingers outstretched to touch the girl's tear-streaked face. "Child."

Ginny jerked back, stumbling backwards a step. "Don't touch me."

A cruel yet bemused smile crept across the Dark Lord's face. "Defiance." He lowered his hand. "It does become you."

Ginny's breathing quickened. "What is this all about?"

"Do not pretend as if you did not _know_, child. Ignorance does not suit you." The Dark Lord's smile still played across his snake-like features. "The facts should be glaringly obvious at this point."

They weren't. Or maybe they were, and Ginny would not let her brain allow itself to make sense of it. Either way, she was at a loss. The events of the ordeal played out rapidly in her mind. The facts were there, but the conclusion simply didn't fit.

"This all leads back to the Chamber," said the Dark Lord, as if reading the girl's mind. "It was not mere coincidence that you found the diary. Discontinue thinking that, for I will not have a perfectly well-thought out plan go unappreciated." His voice was growing louder, sterner. "Replay the facts, though I'm sure you've done so, I can see it across your face." Ginny's eyes widened. "You, of course, know that you are the first girl in several generations to be born of the Weasley clan." Well, yes, of course she knew that. Her mother never let her forget. "There was a point to that."

If there was a point to anything, Ginny was more than open to hearing it. Her mind was foggy, her thoughts jumbled. Any sense of clarity would be thoroughly welcomed, as far as she was concerned.

"I needed a connection to the world, and the diary provided one. At the time, my present-day self was far too weak to survive. As you can see, this has changed." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, motioning to the bodies, some stunned but most dead, littering the field. That such damage could be caused by just one man was frightening, Ginny observed. "The diary provided a link to the world. I left it in the care of my loyal servant, Lucius, to be placed in the hands of a very important person." Ginny paled. "Yes, my child, _you_."

"Why me?"

"All will be explained, child. Be patient. You took to the diary quite stunningly, and I do appreciate that. It made my job so much easier. I assume you remember how this part of the story goes?"

Ginny stared back at him, suddenly eleven years old again, the same feelings of disgust with herself for falling right into his hands bubbling up again. The feeling that she was going to vomit became very strong, and she tried to suppress it. She nodded curtly.

The Dark Lord continued. "It was afterwards where things got... how to put it? Interesting, to say the least." He paused thoughtfully. "We did not see much of each other until now, though I did see more than enough of your dear Mr. Potter."

Ginny swallowed, hard. She knew this part of the story. Again, she nodded jerkily, urging him to finish the story.

"Well, child, you should be able to fill in the rest of the story," said the Dark Lord. "Go over the facts. There's all there."

There was that I'm-going-to-vomit feeling again. She didn't quite know why, but this whole business made her feel as if she must purge whatever was inside her. She fell to her knees, trying to steady herself. The facts, the facts, the facts... what the hell where the facts? And what conclusion was she supposed to draw?

"Really now, Ginevra," the Dark Lord said. "You should have figured all of this out long ago. It's quite obvious... you're my daughter."

A/N: So? How was it? If you don't understand what's happening, well, it goes like this: you're coming in at the end of the story, and then how we got here is the main part of the story. So, the next chapter will begin in the past, which is supposed to be Ginny recounting all of the events leading up to now. Get it? Got it? Good. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic, so I'd appreciate reviews, just to know how well I'm doing. Say nice things about me!


	2. Take Me Away

Disclaimer: I forgot one last time, but I'm assuming you know how it goes, right? JKR, WB, blah blah blah... you're smart people, you can fill in the blanks.

**Take Me Away**

Ginny Weasley sat by the brook behind her house, guitar and journal both lay forgotten next to her. She leaned against the tree she was sitting under and closed her eyes, trying to capture a few moments of rest. This was why she loved summer: the calm. She loved it. Everything slowed down, everyone paced themselves. Some would call it sluggish, but Ginny thought it was just fine. She enjoyed the peacefulness of The Burrow during summer. And now that school was over, she could enjoy the peacefulness of the Burrow all year long.

"_Ginevra!_" called Mrs. Weasley, shattering the peace that Ginny was soaking up. She opened one eye and turned her head enough to see her mother standing at the open window, looking angry. "This is the fifth time I've called you, Ginny. Get in here and help. Dinner's almost ready."

Ginny sighed and got to her feet. She picked up her journal and her guitar and proceeded to head to the house, guitar bouncing merrily behind her. "Pick up that guitar!" she heard her mother shriek from the kitchen. Grumbling, she picked up the guitar and carried it to the house.

"Are we eating outside?" Ginny asked her mother, putting her guitar on a chair in the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley nodded, checking on the roast.

"The boys are putting the tables and chairs outside," she said. On that note, a chair flew past the two and zoomed out the back door. Mrs. Weasley slammed her wand down onto the counter and stood in the door. "Will you please _not_ use magic to collect the chairs? It's dangerous!" Ginny stood behind her mother, grinning. The boys, who consisted of the twins, Ron, and Harry (who was now living with them), mumbled sheepishly and retreated into the house to collect the rest of the needed chairs. Mrs. Weasley returned to the kitchen, rich smells permeating from the tiny room.

"Gin!" Ron called from the dining room. "Will you please move your guitar before I use it for kindling?" Ginny rolled her eyes and went to retrieve her beloved acoustic.

"You're getting pretty good at that thing," Harry said when Ginny came in to the dining room. "I could hear you earlier today."

"Er, thanks, Harry," Ginny said, blushing. It wasn't that she still had some sort of mad crush on Harry—that died a long time ago—it just was that she could never take compliments well. She tucked her journal, a small navy book with unlined pages, under her arm and put her guitar on the sofa in the living room. The fire shot upwards, burning a bright green. She set the guitar on the sofa. It leaned left, threatening to fall. Ginny caught it and ordered it in a frantic whisper, "Don't fall. Please, don't fall."

"Why don't you just put it up in your room where it belongs?" Ginny heard her father ask as he stepped out of the fireplace. He shook the ash off of his robes as he stepped further away. Ginny looked up, smiling.

"I don't feel like walking," she answered with a shrug. Hermione appeared behind Mr. Weasley.

"You'd rather walk all over creation simply to avoid walking up some stairs?" Hermione asked, shaking out her robes. "Honestly, Ginny, you'd think you'd have more energy."

"Yeah, I'm not old like you," the redhead joked. "Mum says dinner's ready." She kissed her father on the cheek as she headed outside.

Ginny sat down at the table, taking a seat at the very end of the table. Hermione sat next to her, and Ron across from Hermione. The two had been dating since their seventh year, but the relationship had been a tumultuous one due to their incessant arguing. Right now, the waters were calm, but only heaven knew when the next front would roll in.

Harry, on the other hand, hadn't really been in a relationship, not a serious one at least. Dating hadn't really been his forte, choosing instead to be alone most of the time. He said he didn't know what to say around girls, but the underlying reason was a fear of Voldemort using them to get to him. It was dangerous, knowing Harry Potter, but Harry seemed to be the only one afraid of it. He sat down across from Ginny, looking distracted.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Ginny asked. She always felt odd, asking if he was all right. She didn't know him that well. They hadn't really become friends. He always remained her older brother's best friend, and that always made Ginny feel distanced from Harry. Some progress was made around her third year at Hogwarts, but it halted after her fourth. Sirius, Harry's godfather, had died, and quite suddenly. After that, he shut himself away from the rest of the world. He didn't come to the Burrow at all that summer, instead spending the last week or so of summer holiday at the Leaky Cauldron. He was a wreck when school began. He didn't sleep or eat properly. He just went from one thing to the next, probably replaying that single moment in his head over and over. You could see it play across his face: the confusion, the realization, the horror. At first, denial made a brief appearance, but that faded quickly away. Harry slowly came back to the present, but he never the same.

Harry looked up and gave Ginny a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

Ginny shrugged. She followed everyone's lead and helped herself to some food. "You just seem... _off_."

Harry looked slightly confused. "Off?"

"Distracted," Ginny amended. "You looked distracted. That was what I meant to say."

"Oh," Harry said, looking as though he understood. "Just thinking about Auror training and the like. Bit nervous."

"I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," Harry said. "I'm glad somebody has one."

Dinner continued on, small talk playing a key role. As the afternoon light dwindled and dusk crept across the sky, Ginny listening to her older brother and his best friend argue animatedly about Quidditch while Hermione talked with Ginny's father about work. A half-smile of contentment playing across her lips, Ginny closed her eyes. Shoes abandoned under the table, she enjoyed the feeling of blades of grass tickling her feet.

This, thought Ginny, was all perfection really was.

A/N: Hi again! How am I doing so far? I'm trying to make this more interesting, but set-ups are always boring. Remember to review! And be nice!


	3. Another Day

Disclaimer: Not mine. Will never be mine. Is owned by JKR, WB, and loads of other people, I'm sure. I'm just borrowing it for a while. I'll give it back. Honest.

**Another Day**

A week later, and Ginny's little world of summer perfection became the setting for Noah's Ark. Bill had shown up the last week of August to enjoy the peace and relaxation of the Burrow. Instead, rain pelted down on the window, rattling the Burrow something awful for most of the time. And so, along with the rest of the family, he spent the week cooped up and going slightly stir-crazy.

It was a rare moment where the entire family was in the same general area: Harry and Ron were playing a game of chess at the dining room table; Hermione was sitting on the sofa reading; Bill and Mr. Weasley were on the sofa talking; Fred and George were in front of the fire, having a heated, hushed discussion and probably plotting some new product for their joke shop; Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen cooking and Ginny was on the smaller sofa scanning the want ads of both the Muggle paper and the Daily Prophet. It was quiet, apart from the upstairs noise and the radio on in the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley came bustling in, wiping the sweat that had formed on her brow and began to ask if anyone cared for a sandwich. She stopped when she glanced at Ginny's exposed back. "Will you pull your shirt down?" said Mrs. Weasley, yanking the top down for her, ignoring Ginny's shrieking. "I hate seeing that vulgar tattoo of yours."

The family looked up in interest. The tattoo Ginny acquired sometime before was always grounds for an interesting battle between she and her mother. Ginny, grumbling, decided not to pick such a fight today.

"I never knew you had a tattoo, Gin," Harry said from the table.

"Yes, well," Ginny started, now severely ruffled from her mother's surprise attack on her favorite top. She closed her journal and putting it next to her. "I don't like bringing it up."

Harry soldiered on. "What is it?"

"Music note in a Snitch," Ron said, watching his bishop clobber Harry's last pawn in a bored fashion. "She got it—what, your seventh year, Gin?" Ginny nodded. "Yeah, well, she kept us all in the dark until Bill told us before she came home for holidays."

Ginny shrugged. "I wanted to be the cool, rebellious teenager with the tattoo and the earrings and chains and rubbish. I've since matured."

"Checkmate!" Ron crowed from the table. Ginny turned around, and saw Harry collecting his miserable-looking chess pieces. "Up for another one, Harry?"

"I'll pass," Harry said. "I can only take so much defeat in one day."

Ron shrugged. "Suit yourself." He wandered into the kitchen to sneak something to eat. Harry turned to Ginny.

"I couldn't get a tattoo," Harry said. Ginny put on a shocked expression. "I hate needles."

"The Boy Who Lived? Afraid of needles?" She placed a flat hand to her open mouth. "Alert the Daily Prophet. I'm sure everyone would love to hear that."

Harry tried to look annoyed, but amusement shone through. "Yes, well, that's the way to defeat me. You've found my weakness, Gin. Come after me with a syringe and I'm done for. I'll head for the hills myself." Harry nodded his head at the Daily Prophet that was splayed open across the sofa. "Any luck on the job front?"

Ginny looked back at the paper, the advertisements dancing jubilantly, and sighed. "Only one, and it's in London. Some pub. It sounds good, but I doubt I'd get it."

"I'm sure you would, Gin," Hermione spoke up. "You're talented enough, for sure." Ginny smiled, and shook her head. There was that damn over-modest side again. Hermione glared over Ginny's head.

"She's right, Gin," Ron said, probably due to Hermione's silent threat. "You're good."

"I say go for it," Harry said. "The worst that can happen is that you won't get it. And then you can write songs about the burn of rejection." Ginny looked over her shoulder and grinned.

"Okay, okay, I'll send an owl out tonight," Ginny said. "Can I borrow Hedwig, Harry?" Harry nodded.

"Of course."

Ginny watched as Hedwig flew up into the dusky sky. She had sent off her application, and now all she had to do was wait. The rain, thankfully, had stopped and had left heavy, steamy air in its wake. It was the type of weather where you grew hot and sweaty without moving. Ginny, along with Ron, Hermione, and Harry, had decided to drag the dining room chairs back out and sit outside, enjoying watching the stars blossom in the night sky. Ginny piled all of her hair onto the back of her head and help it there, letting her tongue loll out of her mouth in disgust of the heat. "How can it be so bloody hot?"

"It's not the heat, it's the humidity," Hermione said, reading a worn copy of Little Women. Ginny looked at her, unamused. Hermione shrugged, her own merriment making her eyes sparkle. "Well, I thought it was cute."

"It wasn't."

Ron grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and started to fan himself with it. After a moment, he realized it wasn't working and dropped it in disgust. "I can take it out here. I'm going inside." He got up. "Anybody else coming?" Hermione snapped her book shut and followed. Ron silently asked Harry and Ginny.

"No, I'll stay out here," Ginny said. "I like watching the sky." Harry nodded.

"I'll keep her company. Make sure the bugs keep their distance," he said, settling further into the chair.

"You're both bloody mental," Ron said, turning to go in the house, Hermione close behind.

Ginny let go of her hair, letting it swing back into place and landing somewhere at the middle of her back. "Long hair is such a lovely conception, but rarely does it work out in practice."

"I wouldn't know."

"Count your lucky stars," Ginny said. "So do you really think I have a snowball's chance in hell of getting the job? You weren't just saying it to appease Hermione?"

"Of course I do," said Harry, nodding. "You doubt yourself too much."

Ginny shrugged. "I get lost in the shuffle so much that every time I think I do something fantastic, it's always buried under something someone else did. So I never knew if anything I did was good, let alone good _enough_. Am I making any sense?"

"Yes," Harry said. "I'm not going to lie and say I know what you're going through. I don't. I was told point-blank I was never good enough, that I was worthless."

Ginny sunk into the chair. "I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to bring this up. We can go back—"

"No, it's fine. Just let me get this out." Harry said. "I was always told point-blank that I was worthless. But you," he looked up at the Burrow, almost wistfully, "you had this. You have a supportive family who always let you know they loved you and will always love you. I never got that. I would have given anything to have gotten even one minute of that."

"Well, you've got it now," Ginny said. "Let's go drown our depression in ice cream."

Harry smiles. "Sounds like a plan.

A/N: Sorry I took so long with this! School and such. You know how it goes. Hopefully I'll be on a more regular schedule after things settle down. Until then, be nice and review!  
A/N 2: I fixed this one because I uploaded the wrong file. I'm sorry if I confused anyone. I've fixed it now and everything should be in at least a _better_ semblence or order!


	4. London Calling

Disclaimer: Yes, yes, yes, not mind, now let's move on.

**London Calling**

Ginny stood in front of The Card Deck, trying to shake off the nervous feeling that had sent her stomach churning. She shifted her grip on her guitar case handle and ran her other clammy palm across her worn jeans. She grasped the door handle, pulled, and was greeted by a smoky gust of air as she stepped inside.

Inside was dark, but warm and friendly. She scanned the room, and her eyes landed on a plump, gray-haired woman behind the bar, wiping down beer mugs. The woman looked up and saw Ginny. Her face lit up and waved her over, rag still in hand. Ginny made her way to the bar.

"You must be Miss Weasley," said the plump woman. Ginny nodded as she put her guitar case down. "I'm Miranda White, but you can Mindy if you like. So, you're here about the job." Again, Ginny nodded. Mindy put the mug down. "You're a quiet thing, aren't you?"

_Well, no,_ Ginny thought. _I just don't have anything to say._ Which is probably just the thing she should have said, but she knew the moment she opened her mouth, all the wrong words would tumble out, and in the wrong order. It happened every time, no matter how prepared she felt. This is why she knew never to go into public relations.

"Well, that's no matter. I'm not hiring you to talk, am I?" Mindy said, smiling broadly. "I'll be having you play in a half-hour. Think of it as a public audition of sorts." Public audition? Ginny gulped, the nervousness coming back in full force. "Oh, don't worry, you'll be fine. There's a dressing room in the back. Martin'll be showing you to your place." Mindy looked around the room. "MARTIN!" she hollered, but no one in the bar looked up. This seemed to be a normal occurrence. A man with snow-white hair, bald on the top of his head, stuck his head out from the doorway leading to the back section of the bar.

"Yes, m'dear?"

Miny sighed. "That'll be Martin, my husband. Absent-minded little thing, I should warn you, but he's a good enough man." Martin had made his way over to bar.

"Are you Ginger, then?" Martin asked Ginny.

"Ginny," she corrected him.

"Oh, bless my stars! The creature speaks." Mindy said, pretending to be surprised. Ginny grinned.

"Well, Ginny, there's a room in the back." Martin pointed behind him. "You can put your stuff in there."

"Thanks," Ginny said, picking up her guitar. She followed Martin to her dressing room. It was small, to be sure, but it had a very homey feel to it. A bouquet of flowers sat on the table in front of the mirror framed with light bulbs, and a plush red couch sat against the wall. Ginny put her guitar down and thanked Martin. He tipped an imaginary hat and left. And Ginny was alone.

She sighed, and hoisted her guitar onto the couch, trying to fit as much of it onto the couch as possible, and clicked the locks open. Her sheet music slid out, splaying all over the floor. Ginny groaned. She didn't need this right now. A half an hour's worth of organizing scattered across a foreign floor. She stooped to pick it up.

Ginny had just finished fishing out the last of her papers from under the couch when there was a loud popping noise. Ginny jumped, startled, and slammed her head on her guitar case. She sat on the floor, tears streaming, gripping her head and wishing death upon whoever Apparated into her dressing room. She looked up with blurry eyes, and was surprised to see someone she had never laid eyes on before.

He wasn't a movie star, to put it quite bluntly. He wasn't in possession of any recognizable features, but he had an overall pleasantness to his looks. He was on the short side of the male spectrum, having to be only a few inches than Ginny's small frame (Ron had been the lucky one in the height department, whereas Ginny ended up on the short side, with Fred and George). Dark brown hair, only a few shades lighter than black, hung over part of his freckle-dusted face, as per the style. His brown eyes were full of worry as he offered to help Ginny get up. Ginny, being Ginny, refused.

"Are you sure?" His voice was shaky, gravelly.

"I'm fine, really. I'm just going to have one stunner of a headache," Ginny said, getting to her feet. She stopped crying, at least.

"I'm really sorry," he said. "I was going to use the tube because I'm not much for Apparating, but I was running late so I thought it would be best to just, y'know, pop over. I was aiming for the next room over." The story tumbled out of his mouth at an amazing speed.

Ginny grinned. "At least you didn't end up in the wall," she said, pushing her hair behind her ear.

The boy paled. "That alone is my biggest fear: ending up in a wall wide enough for be to be trapped in."

"Claustrophobia?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's too much like fairy floss. I don't want to die due to fairy floss insulation inhalation. I'm frightened enough of fairy floss itself, let alone a deadly version that keeps in heat."

Ginny stared at him. "You're afraid of fairy floss? The pink spun sugar things at fairs and such?" The boy nodded, face totally deadpan. This sent Ginny off into gales of laughter. The boy joined in. When they calmed down, he stuck out his hand. "I'm Rafe Fombry. I play piano here, right after you, I suppose"

Ginny took his hand and shook it. "Rafe?" she asked. He half-shrugged.

"Raphael, but nobody but my grandmother calls me that, and I reckon she does so because she thinks I'm my father." Ginny let go of his hand. It was the hand of an athlete, to be sure.

"I'm Ginny Weasley," Ginny said. Rafe looked at her, head cocked to the side slightly. "Yes. A Weasley. Trademark red hair and all."

"Yes, I've heard of your lot. I remember your brothers," Rafe said, nodding. "Fred and George."

Ginny cracked a grin. "Yes, well, it's not exactly _easy_ to forget them." Rafe laughed.

"This is true, your brothers are not the type of people one casually meets and forgets." Rafe stuck his hands in his pockets. "Even in Ravenclaw, we heard every blessed prank they pulled."

Ginny was about to tell him about a prank they once pulled on Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw prefect and Percy's old girlfriend, when Martin came up to the door and knocked. "Miss Weasley, we'll be needing you to be ready to go out on stage in about five minutes." Ginny nodded and thanked him. "See you've met our young Mr. Fombry here. Quite the piano player, he is." Rafe half-shrugged again. He seemed to be another who didn't take compliments well. Ginny inwardly smiled at this.

Martin exited, and once again, Ginny and Rafe were alone. "Well, I'd better let you get ready. I have to get ready myself. But I'll be out to watch your set." This did not make Ginny feel better, for some reason. She saw him out of her tiny dressing room and then turned to face herself in the mirror. To Ginny's horror, she found her cheeks were striped with thick, black lines. When she started to cry after she hit her head, her mascara had run. _Perfect_, she thought. _Today was really the day to fool around with Muggle make-up. Idiot. _She looked at it from an artistic point of view. It had been done before, that was certainly true, but it still didn't look half bad. Very Gothic Lolita, she decided. But, she considered the crowd, and chose to look normal the first go around. There was no need to frighten the future employers, though she's certainly keep the look in mind for the future. She snatched her wand from her guitar case and performed a quick cleaning charm. She fixed her make-up magically, and quickly got changed. It wasn't anything spectacular. Ginny never did have the pleasures of truly fancy clothes, but she also decided that she didn't really _want_ them. The khaki corduroys and light blue tank were much more comfortable and _her_ than any designer label dress.

Ginny grabber her music and tucked it under her arm, and waited for Martin to come and tell her to go out onstage. She was more than nervous. She felt ike she was going to be violently sick. But Ginny had felt like this before. The summer before she started Hogwarts, she was nervous all the time at home because Ron had brought his new friend over for the holidays. Usually, when anyone else did this, Ginny had no problem. She liked meeting her brothers' friends.

But Ron's new friend was Harry Potter. _Highly unfair, if you ask me_, Ginny thought, looking back. _Not only was I high-strung about starting school, darling ickle Ronnikins had to bring home Harry bloody Potter._ Still, she was fond of that summer. It was the following school year she didn't like thinking about. How horrible that year was. _No_, she scolded herself. _You will not work yourself up over the past now. Especially not now. You're stressed enough. Deal with this, and then go home and make yourself as sick as you want over first year._ Ginny wondered briefly if it was healthy to talk to oneself in such a manner before deciding she didn't care.

Another knock at the door sounded sharply, and Ginny's heart jumped into her throat as her stomach plummeted. "Miss Weasley? We're going to be wanting you onstage now."

"Alright," Ginny said in a smooth voice. She was amazed she sounded like that, as if she had been doing this for years. Either this was a brilliant sign or a terrible one, and Ginny was about to find out. She pulled her guitar out of it's battered case and slung it over her shoulders. She made her way to the stage, her chunky, chocolate brown boots feeling heavier than usual. She went on to a smattering of applause, and to her surprise loud whooping and clapping from the back. She looked up, and her nervousness dissipated as she saw Hermione, Ron, and Harry bloody Potter, all cheering loudly for her.

A/N: I feel so bad about keeping this chapter! It's been, what, a month? Though I've plotted out the next few chapters so I should be able to write those within a fair timeframe. I hope you're all enjoying this! Please remember to review!


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